Lady Smith Lock and Key Pt. 10

"I don't know. I read that Corrales was one of the best places to live in New Mexico," I say, dropping the hint I was planning on staying long term. "Don't need a license to be a locksmith here."

"Where are you staying?" he asks.

"I'll start looking for apartments tomorrow. Made a few calls on my way here, I got a few applications to submit," I reply. As much as I like the idea of immediately living with him, I'd prefer to set my own roots first. When he suggests it, I make sure he knows my reasoning.

"Daddy?" I hear, and we both turn to the bottom of the stairs. His daughter is on the last stair with frizzled hair, likely from the dryness of this place, yawning with her hand over her mouth. "Who's that?"

"A friend of mine. You need something sweetie?"

"Water."

Rose enters the kitchen and sits at the dining room table. Her pajamas are from a Disney Princess movie. She kicks her feet as she sips from her plastic cup, eyeing me from across the room. Not suspiciously, I'm just new to her.

"I've heard a lot about you Rose," I say, and she tilts her head. "You're cuter in person."

"What's your name?" she asks. I giggle a little.

"Lady."

"What?"

"My name is Lady."

"Lady?" she asks, and I nod. "That's silly." I laugh, and Matt frowns.

"Don't be rude honey."

"It's okay, it is a little silly," I say with a smile that she returns. Her smile is the same as Matt's. Whether or not the paternity is questionable, he left his mark on her personality.

"Finish your water and go back to bed," Matt says. Rose finishes the rest in one gulp and walks the cup over to Matt. She starts walking away without a word. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," she replies, and starts walking away again. She pauses and turns fully around. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight sweet pea." Rose climbs the stairs, and we hear a door creak shut. "You look tired too. Let's go to bed."

As tired as I am, it doesn't stop me from getting what I want. We make love before going to bed. Later in the day I'll start getting my life put back together. For now, I'm perfectly at home in his arms. If this all works out like I hope, I'll never leave them again.

--

December 25, 2021

~Regina Liddell~

In the last week I've been up and down this mountain multiple times. Sedona is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. The red and orange rock structures. The style and structure of the town itself is another reason to visit all on its own. The hikes are breathtaking. The elevation is a challenge for anyone not adjusted to it. The elevation is over four thousand feet, so it snows up here in the winter. The red sandstone is wearing layers of fresh white snow like a scarf.

The climb all week has been slick. The wind has been unpredictable, and biting. My entire body is wrapped in two layers of clothing. My outermost shell is protecting me from the wind, but my eyes and cheeks still burn. Sometimes the wind is a cool breeze. Other times it threatens to fling me off the mountain. Tonight, it's mostly static. It comes and goes, but generally not above a few knots. I can work with that.

In Sedona, no one thinks twice about someone climbing a mountain. People visit from all over to do just that. Now if I climb up the mountain with a big bag, that's something else entirely. So, I've carried up my equipment piecemeal over the last week. I always look like I brought back down what I brought up. The people at the opening of the trails are polite and ask me how the climb was.

"A little slick," I say. I've had that on repeat for the last week.

Tonight is the night. The target package I've been given shows that Mrs. Ceallaigh leaves Phoenix and comes to the family vacation home in Sedona every holiday. They entertain a few guests, and everyone slowly leaves. They then sit in the living room with the giant windows facing the mountains to take in that ten-million-dollar view. She'll spend the last hour of her night by putting on a coat and sitting on the back porch next to the firepit.

I arrive well before the festivities begin. The extra time I needed to find my equipment and get it all set up. I find the bag I hid in the bushes above the outcropping. I'm on a piece of rock jutting out of the mountain, measuring no more than ten feet out and five feet at wide. You need to climb down to get fully into the position, which means someone sneaking up on me by accident is near impossible. I throw my bag over my shoulder and start my climb. It takes a few minutes to climb down, and I start getting ready. The orange light from dusk obscures me even with daylight, and my clothing is all white to blend into the natural environment better.

I lay down a white tarp and open my bag. I had spray painted everything white with speckles of orange and red. It's invisible from distance. I assemble my SR-25 and dry fire a few times. My bag is placed at the edge of the outcropping, and I lean the barrel of the weapon down. A range finder reconfirms my distance of 746 meters. The target is five meters below me. I confirm my elevation calculations and check the wind. One knot. Moisture isn't a factor.

Daylight is running out, and people start to arrive for the party. I hold my body with my arms inside of my jacket and wait. Slowly throughout the night, the party goers start to leave. By 2100, it's just her. She disappears into the kitchen just out of my line of sight, and I get behind the weapon. I reconfirm the distance and elevation. No wind, moisture not a factor. Perfect conditions. I put an earbud in and make the call.

"Is it done?" the man's voice says.

"Always like to give people the option to back out. No harm, no foul, but half is still mine for wasting my time," I reply.

"Call me back when it's done," he says, and hangs up. I watch her reenter my vision and I get ready. Deep breath, wait until I'm at the bottom of the exhale. Deep breath, exhale. Deep breath, exhale. I see headlights in her driveway and take my finger off the trigger.

"Dang it." I put the stock of the weapon on my shoulder and watch through binoculars. A man exits a black Audi and walks up the driveway with a smooth posture and an impressive dark suit. Mrs. Ceallaigh answers the door and lets the man in after a few seconds of discussion. It looks cordial at first, but soon she explodes in anger. The man remains calm, but she throws a bottle at him, which he catches one handed. "Nice one," I say, impressed.

I call back.

"Is it done?"

"Someone else showed up. A man I don't recognize. Driving a black Audi." I wait for him to reply as I hear his breathing.

"Do them both."

"That's extra," I reply. "I'll do the man for half, seeing how I don't need to recon."

"Deal."

"Pleasure doing business."

I get behind the weapon again and watch the altercation through the scope. Mrs. Ceallaigh turns away from the man and looks right out the window. That floor to ceiling window looking straight at me. He's still in frame, and I don't see any immediate need to recalculate to adjust to him.

Deep breath, exhale. Deep breath, exhale. Deep breath, exhale, squeeze.